Chapter Forty-Three: The Trail Has Gone Cold

Zhou Yi brushed aside Fatty’s hand, which was blocking his way, and nodded toward the computer.

“Stop wasting time. Check the surveillance footage. The Military District compound should have some useful records, right?”

Fatty had already pulled up one of the surveillance feeds. While Zhou Yi was making his phone call, he’d started searching. Though there were firewalls and other protections, to Fatty these were child’s play.

Before long, he began to search through the archived footage. Normally, surveillance videos were deleted automatically every month, but surprisingly, everything here had been exported to the central control computer for storage. It seemed the Military District compound was indeed different from the ordinary.

“Boss, how did you know Meng Xiaojiao’s father was a high-ranking officer—and from the military, no less?”

Zhou Yi shot him a sidelong glance, finding the flattery a bit much.

“Didn’t you notice the tone when her father answered the phone? Their house must be quite large. And when he mentioned Cheng Zhi going to their place, he specifically said the compound’s guard wouldn’t let him in. Next time you want to butter someone up, try a little more subtlety—otherwise, it’s awkward for both of us.”

Fatty’s lips twitched, momentarily at a loss for words.

On reflection, he admitted the question was a bit sloppy, so he nodded and threw himself into reviewing the footage.

Soon, he located the recording from July 15th—there were two camera angles. Fatty picked the one facing the main gate and began searching through the footage between noon and two in the afternoon.

He sped it up eight times, making the playback go by quickly.

At 1:40, a car flashed across the screen, and then a figure got out and walked straight to the guardhouse without entering the compound. Fatty quickly rewound and slowed the playback.

A dark blue Santana stopped at the gate. From this angle, the license plate wasn’t visible, nor was the driver. Then, a man in a white shirt and black trousers got out from the passenger side.

He didn’t have a bag, but he seemed to slip something into his pocket. Although he only glanced up briefly before turning away, Zhou Yi immediately recognized him as Cheng Zhi.

Zhou Yi gestured for Fatty to zoom in and rewind a bit. They saw Cheng Zhi had put a cellphone—an Ericsson T68, easily identifiable—into his pocket.

Fatty paused, sucking in a sharp breath.

“This guy’s made it big. Broke up in May, started a company, disappeared for a while, and now he’s come back looking like this. Feels like he’s landed himself a rich sugar mama or something.”

Zhou Yi didn’t rule out the possibility, but looking at the graduation and ID photos, Cheng Zhi seemed like an ordinary guy: tall, but skinny and dark-skinned, with regular features at best. Would a wealthy woman really go for someone like that?

“Keep playing.”

Fatty hit play. Cheng Zhi looked around warily, never turning his face toward the camera, then exchanged a few words with the guard before entering the guardhouse.

Soon, a young woman ran out from inside the compound—this must be Meng Xiaojiao.

Her white dress fluttered in the breeze. Even though the image was grainy, she was clearly beautiful. She carried a small bag, spoke briefly with Cheng Zhi, and then a burly middle-aged man appeared, gesturing and shouting at the gate. The guard hurried over to escort Cheng Zhi away.

Cheng Zhi didn’t argue. He simply picked up the bag and left.

Meng Xiaojiao seemed to be crying as she ran back inside, with the middle-aged man following, scolding all the way.

Fatty quickly switched to another camera.

This angle faced outside the compound. At the corresponding time, the dark blue Santana drove into view. The license plate was caked with mud, showing only “Lu A”—the numbers were obscured.

When Cheng Zhi reentered the frame, the car started up. Fatty didn’t need Zhou Yi’s prompt—he quickly took a screenshot.

The front plate was just as muddy as the back, as if it had been deliberately obscured. Clearly, Cheng Zhi had been careful, not wanting to leave any traces. But tucked inside the windshield was a pass of some sort.

Fatty hurriedly zoomed in, trying to read the text, but it was too blurry. At the front, there seemed to be an emblem—perhaps a crucifix, but on closer inspection, it wasn’t quite right.

Fatty frowned, the more he magnified the image, the less clear the details became.

“It’s a pass, but I can’t tell which organization it’s for.”

Zhou Yi narrowed his eyes, pondering for a moment.

“Check if the Health Bureau issues any sort of entry permit, and what it looks like.”

Fatty quickly searched, but after a while, shook his head.

“The Health Bureau doesn’t issue entry permits.”

Zhou Yi sighed. It seemed the trail had gone cold again. He’d hoped to link Cheng Zhi to Li Mei, but now it looked like he was overthinking things.

Fatty wasn’t discouraged and tried checking nearby traffic cameras. After searching for a while, he was visibly frustrated, tossing the mouse aside.

“Traffic surveillance only keeps footage for two or three months. It’s been too long—there’s nothing there.”

Zhou Yi patted Fatty on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry. If this path is blocked, let’s keep digging into those companies. Cheng Zhi isn’t the type to keep a low profile forever. Even though he tries to hide his movements, he can’t stay invisible, or else why bother setting up these companies?”

Fatty nodded. Zhou Yi made perfect sense—there was no use getting anxious.

“In just two months, his whole appearance changed. What do you think he did to the previous group that came after him, to make them all disappear?”

Zhou Yi thought for a moment.

“Sophia didn’t say it directly, but the last group was definitely wiped out. For someone to pull that off, it’s not something Cheng Zhi could do alone—he must have help. Remember what Sophia said about the Hunters?”

I’m starting to wonder—do Hunters really exist in this world?”

Fatty froze.

He quickly turned to look at Zhou Yi. There was no time to dwell on whether he himself could be Zhou Yi’s servant. If Hunters truly existed, they could be in real danger.

“I remember Sophia said those Hunters were humans living in spatial rifts, specializing in hunting Chosen Ones and slaves. If you get caught, you become a servant. By that logic, we’re their targets now too?”

Zhou Yi nodded, gazing thoughtfully at the list of companies Fatty had pulled up.

If he were Cheng Zhi, he wouldn’t show his face personally. He’d accumulate wealth and recruit people within a controlled circle, either for himself or for the Hunters. But what were they after?

Was it only about killing Chosen Ones and slaves?

Were they targeting the base?

If that was their aim, wouldn’t it be more straightforward to attack the base directly? After all, each mission world only sent a handful of Chosen Ones and slaves.

So perhaps the Hunters weren’t that powerful either, just building up something. Maybe each mission world offered them something they needed?

Zhou Yi looked at Fatty, who was staring at him intently. After a moment’s thought, Zhou Yi said,

“We know too little about the Hunters. But these Hunters don’t attack the base directly—they hide in the mission worlds and help the Awakened stay under the radar.

It doesn’t feel like they’re confident enough to wipe us out. It’s more like they’re searching for something, or accumulating something—just as every base needs its Chosen Ones and slaves to gather energy.

They infiltrate each mission world, partly to hunt us, but also to obtain something else. If we could figure out what that is, I think we’d have a much better chance of finding them.”

“That’s not easy. Now I see it clearly—in the base, we’re at the very bottom. Rights and fairness are meaningless. If they give you something, you take it. If not, you just have to watch. What you’re talking about is probably the real secret. Otherwise, why wouldn’t Sophia say so?”

Fatty’s words were blunt—but he had a point. They really didn’t know much about the real world.

“In the bomb shelter, I think Sophia was telling the truth, but she left a lot unsaid. Maybe she herself doesn’t know—reality is too complicated. And she’s half-machine; her perspective and opinions are programmed.

Take Waldner, for example. Clearly, he doesn’t want more Chosen Ones in his base—he actually prefers more slaves. One reason is probably not wanting more competition; the other is profit.”

“Profit? You mean energy?”